


The Other Truth

by velocitygrass



Series: Life-Changing Encounters [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velocitygrass/pseuds/velocitygrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after the surveillance state fell, John recalls the day his life changed, the day he faced Rodney McKay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to allofspace for the beta!

"What was it like the day the Consortium fell?"

Several sets of large eyes looked up at him from where their young owners sat on the floor. It hadn't been the first time they'd been asked, and it wouldn't be the last. They'd been asked by historians, reporters, even strangers, and of course children like these, who were too young to remember the day or hadn't been born.

John knew for a fact that some of the children had asked this before. Ronon and Teyla had as much to tell as John and Rodney—even if it was a slightly different story—and they'd told their children about this day many times over the years.

But still the fascination never ceased. It was, after all, the day the world had changed.

John didn't say much as Rodney launched into his narrative. It was familiar—since John had been there—but even after all these years Rodney still made it sound exciting. The children hung on Rodney's every word. They acted shocked, delighted, and terrified in the appropriate places as Rodney recounted how they'd turned the information machinery of their surveillance state against itself, culminating in the day when every major and minor wrong-doing, from petty bureaucratic patronizing to systematic mass murder, had been put on display for the world to see.

He nodded in confirmation a few times, but his mind drifted off—not to that day, which had changed the world, but to the day that had changed _his_ world.

~~

John _finally_ had him. Months of investigating, in which he'd put together a puzzle of even the smallest hints, because Rodney McKay didn't leave behind any obvious traces. He was too smart for that.

McKay had been the one to lay the groundwork for the surveillance system that brought peace to the world. Finally the constant struggle of staying one step ahead of terrorists and criminals had ended. But instead of allowing himself to be celebrated like a hero, McKay had turned to become what he'd hunted.

He'd joined the terrorist underground that sought to bring back the old days in which criminals escaped justice and police had to face them on equal footing instead of being the force of law they were now.

John had never understood how such a smart man could turn from a scientist and engineer into a cold-blooded murderer.

But it wasn't John's job to understand him. He had been tasked with finding the man, and now he had. He followed McKay into the abandoned property where there were no cameras. McKay was too smart to let a camera identify him.

But even those that hid from cameras left a trail. John had collected and analyzed thousands of instances of non-identification. And finally he'd been able to discern a pattern that fit the little he knew about McKay's contacts.

There was no escaping now.

John stepped around the corner, firearm raised, along with the identification camera that was attached to his arm. "Stop," he shouted.

McKay stood in front of a grey cement building, the metal doors closed behind him. He turned toward John.

"Remove your mask," John ordered.

"Why should I?" McKay asked. "It's not as if _doubt_ will keep you from executing me."

"I won't execute you," John said. He knew the terrorist propaganda. Had McKay fallen for that? Did he really believe all those stories? "I'm here to arrest you. You'll face a jury in a fair trial that will decide your punishment," John said. After a moment, he added, "Or your innocence."

McKay snorted loud enough for John to hear it. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"You won't be executed without proof," John said.

"Whose proof?" McKay asked. "The video footage conveniently tying me to the murder of several cabinet members? Secret emails in which I talk about my plans with my co-conspirators? Sworn testimony of people who were never heard of again?"

"Evidence we were able to collect thanks to _your_ system," John said. "You shouldn't have thought that you could erase it. There are too many checks in place now for any single person to abuse the system."

McKay didn't say anything and then inexplicably started laughing.

"Identify yourself so that I can arrest you or let you go," John said. McKay's laugh made something inside him twist. The question of _why_ started spinning in his head again, but he pushed it away.

"You'll arrest me, and then no evidence in the world can save me," McKay said. "It's all theater. All the laws and procedures. You follow strict protocol, and yet you cannot see that it's all built on lies. _Who_ puts together the evidence that you arrest and punish people for? You record every second of arresting a person and thereafter until they're put away. But who records those that 'restored' the proof that I'm a killer? You meticulously reconstruct an act of terror, placing me in the right place at the right time, but _who_ checks that the time on those videos is correct? Who ever asks eye witnesses what they _saw_? Yes, memories are flawed and reports by people are unreliable, but changing what a person saw _on purpose_ is not as simple as changing a few bytes in a system."

"Your defense attorney will be able to bring up your concerns in the trial," John said, but even to his own ears it sounded weak. Such a defense was tantamount to saying there was a huge government conspiracy and all evidence used in every trial in the last decade was null and void. No judge would give credence to it.

"When was the last time _you_ talked to an eye witness?" McKay asked.

"I had a case two years ago where someone was murdered in an abandoned area," John said. "But the eye witness turned out to be wrong. You said it yourself. They're not reliable."

"What was the actual evidence that led to the solution of the case?" McKay asked.

"We found the murder weapon with fingerprints," John said.

"Let me guess," McKay said. "It was found a few days later, between the crime scene and the apartment of the suspect. You were lucky that it didn't sink into the water or was destroyed as the killer intended and there were just enough fingerprints left to identify him. The suspect denied even being in the area or being connected to the victim in any way, and while you couldn't prove a connection to the victim, there's video proof that the suspect wasn't where he claimed to be at the time. Since you had that video proof, you didn't bother asking _actual_ witnesses. And you found more evidence in his computer anyway that wasn't an explicit confession but close enough to make the case clear."

John's blood ran cold. The gun hadn't been found _exactly_ between the crime scene and the suspect's home, but it was in the direction and it had seemed lucky that it had been lodged inside a trashcan instead of being emptied with the contents. The rest had been exactly as McKay had said.

"Have you ever personally talked to anyone who does the computer or video analysis? Not processes or checks it, but actually works on the original material?" McKay asked.

"The materials are sent away or requested as regulated by standard procedure," John said flatly.

"Is there any procedure in place to verify anything that comes from the Central Security Agency?" McKay asked.

"None that would detect tampering with the data," John conceded.

"So you finally understand my position," McKay said.

"I may understand it, but it doesn't mean you're right. I have personally seen criminals kill," John said as much for himself as for McKay. "My own eye witness report wasn't needed in those cases. These criminals were punished, and I _know_ they were guilty."

"I believe you," McKay said. "And my claim isn't that every single person executed or put behind bars is innocent. I'm sure that many aren't. What I'm trying to say is that any evidence coming from the system cannot be trusted. It can be true as easily as it can be falsified. I built the system. I should know."

John was aware that McKay had just identified himself. Not that there was any doubt in John's mind. He should alert his department and arrest McKay. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it. "Why didn't you build the system so that it couldn't be tampered with?"

"It's just a tool," McKay said. "What you're asking is the same as asking 'why didn't you design a knife that can cut through meat, but not through human skin?' The system is not the problem. It's how it's used. How many of your older colleagues still work in the force? Have you ever heard one of them raise doubts?"

John thought back to his early years in the force, when the new video evidence had revolutionized law enforcement. There'd been some older officers who didn't trust it, but as the new procedures took over and less personnel was necessary, people had been allowed to retire early. Especially those that hadn't been able to adjust. It had seemed logical to John at the time. It still seemed logical now, but for horrifying reasons.

John's arms felt heavy, and he lowered them. McKay didn't move. "You can't let me go," he said.

"What makes you think I will?" John asked. He hadn't thought that far. He was still grappling with what McKay had told him. His version of the truth.

"You still haven't arrested me," McKay said.

"I haven't identified you," John said.

"We both know that's a lie," McKay said. " _You_ know who I am even if your camera hasn't yet told the system."

"What did you do on the day the ministers were killed?" John asked, unable to say _why_ he wasn't arresting McKay.

"I was at home," McKay said. "I was alone, so there's no one who could corroborate that. The system would be able to tell you which porn I watched, but I'm sure those will conveniently be misdated. They'll leave them as part of the evidence, though. As testimony to my deviant character."

John flinched. If there was one thing that John had _always_ disagreed with, it was the imposition of a strict 'moral' view on society. What had started with justly punishing sexual violence had ended with increasingly reluctant toleration of anything outside of procreational sexual activity. Hearing anything about a suspect's sex life as evidence of their character made his skin crawl, and not just when they were gay like he was.

"It's not right," he said. "Unless you're accused of a sex crime, your sexuality should not stand on trial."

"Have you ever voiced that opinion out loud?" McKay asked. John remained quiet. He hadn't. "Then let me give you a piece of advice," McKay said. "Never do. And never raise doubts about the system to anyone. Or you'll find yourself on a case where you'll unfortunately be killed in action."

Holland, John suddenly remembered. They'd started in the force at the same time. Shortly before he had died in action, he'd vented to John about how his case had been closed before he'd been able to tie up all the loose ends. John had never made a connection. He thought about the other officers who'd died on duty, trying to sort them into ones that always toed the line and those that might work outside the box. Before he could reach his conclusion, his radio went off.

"Have you been able to identify the suspect?"

John's heart beat faster. "Negative," he lied. "I'm still on it."

"But you've been following a target, correct?"

"There are several targets," John said. "I'll report as soon as identification can be made. Over."

McKay came closer. "You just lied to your superior."

"I identified several potential targets during my investigation," John said.

McKay came even closer then he lifted his hand and pulled the mask from his face. John had seen photos of the man, but they didn't do him justice. He'd usually looked arrogant and average. Now John was faced with piercing blue eyes that sparked with intelligence and life. McKay's crooked mouth was slightly opened.

John would only need to lift his arm and activate the camera and McKay would be identified and John's department notified. But he didn't. Instead he holstered the firearm that he'd kept in his hand.

"What's your name?" McKay asked.

"Why do you want to know?" John asked.

"You don't understand," McKay said. "What's your name?" he repeated.

"John Sheppard," John said unable to deny McKay.

"There's no going back, John," McKay said. "You can't go back and report that you weren't able to find me."

"They don't know how close I was," John said, clinging to the hope that there was a way out of this.

"They know _everything_ ," McKay said. "They know everywhere you went, every piece of evidence you collected. They know who you talk to, what you eat, what you read, what you jerk off to."

John couldn't help the flush on his face.

McKay raised an eyebrow. He looked down at John's ringless hands. "Are you a deviant too, Officer Sheppard?" he asked with a smirk.

"I told you it wasn't right," John said, swallowing.

McKay became serious. "No, it isn't right. There's so much that isn't right. And you have to make a choice." He lifted his hand towards the firearm in John's holster, but John grabbed his wrist to stop him. "You can shoot me in self-defense or—"

"I'm not going to shoot you," John said.

"I'll not allow them to arrest me. Do you have any idea what happens to prisoners before they are executed?" McKay asked. "I'd rather die on my own terms and not risk betraying my cause when they torture me."

"I will not shoot you," John reiterated, his mouth feeling dry. "What is my other choice?"

"Join us," McKay said.

"I'm not a terrorist," John said automatically.

"But you are. You lied to your superior officer. You aided a terrorist in escaping. You're a sexual deviant who..." McKay scanned his face ending on John's lips, which parted involuntarily. "...enjoys watching men pleasuring other men."

John exhaled. "I wasn't able to identify a suspect," he said. "I've been on this case for months. I can keep working on it until they put me on another."

"And then what?" McKay asked. "What will you do the next time a suspect proclaims their innocence, but is 'proven' false by video evidence? Will you arrest them and bring them to 'justice'? Will you continue to be a puppet of the system, knowing exactly what it does?"

"I don't—"

"You _do_ ," McKay said. "Why else would you let me go if you didn't believe me?"

"I can't be sure," John said. "I have reasonable doubts."

McKay smiled. "Ah, remember when that phrase _meant_ something? Come with me and I can show you. I won't be able to prove every wrongdoing. Not yet. But I'm working on that, and there is more than enough evidence that the system lies. Help me, John. I want to show the world the truth, just like I showed _you_ the truth."

John hesitated. He removed his hand from McKay's wrist. If he did this, there was no going back.

"If I'm right then you know you have to fight with me," McKay said. "And if I'm wrong... You'll never know the truth if you don't come with me. At least not until it's too late and you're next. I think I might have been wrong. There's really no choice for you, is there?"

There was always a choice. "I could kill you. I could choose to live in ignorance, rather than die knowing the ugly truth."

"But you won't," McKay said. There was no doubt at all in his eyes and that grated on John. Still, he had to agree.

"I won't," he said.

A hint of surprise was on McKay's face, and then he smiled. He moved his hand to the camera and looked at John, who nodded. McKay removed the camera and dropped it. "There's much more to do before you're safe. I hope there's no one who's going to miss you or whom you'll miss." It sounded like a question.

"There's no one," John said.

"That will change," Rodney said. "Everything will change for you."

~~

And it had.


End file.
